


One in Wolf-Skin

by paperscribe



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: M/M, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-31
Updated: 2013-10-31
Packaged: 2017-12-28 21:43:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/997095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperscribe/pseuds/paperscribe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the Lewis Fright Fest 2013.  "Either Lewis or Hathaway is bitten and turned into a werewolf."</p>
            </blockquote>





	One in Wolf-Skin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tetsubinatu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tetsubinatu/gifts).



"What happened?" Hathaway asked when Lewis was halfway through the office door.

Lewis blinked at him. "What do you mean? I've only just come in."

"I mean _that_ ," Hathaway said, gesturing pointedly to Lewis's heavily bandaged hand. "I assume you're not practicing bandaging technique."

"Oh," Lewis said. "There was a dog getting at me bin bags. I chased it off but not before it nipped my hand."

"Looks like more than just a nip," Hathaway said. "Have you been to casualty?"

"No need. Didn't damage anything."

Hathaway folded his arms. "You know that for certain, do you?"

Lewis made a face at him. "I'm fine."

Hathaway leaned forward across his desk. "Sir, there are a few things I'm not willing to do, and letting you lose the use of your hand is one of them."

"Good, because I have no intention of doing that," Lewis said.

Hathaway nodded. "I'm taking you to casualty at lunchtime."

"I can't. I have a..." But Lewis was unable to come up with a convincing lie on the spot. He sighed. "They'll poke me with needles."

"Yes. Good. We want that," Hathaway said.

Lewis snorted. "Speak for yourself."

***

"No bandage today," Hathaway noted. 

"Nope. Feeling very well, thanks," Lewis said, tone indicating that he'd like an end to the conversation.

Hathaway was good at ignoring social cues when he wanted to. "Let me see. How awful is it?"

Lewis held up his hand, and Hathaway blinked. There was...nothing. No scabs, no shiny pink skin to indicate a scar, nothing.

"That's not possible," Hathaway said. "I saw them give you stitches."

"Self-dissolving," Lewis said, sounding exasperated. "Now can we talk about something other than the state of my hand?"

Hathaway nodded. "Fine."

"Good."

"How's your back?"

Lewis glared at Hathaway.

***

Professor Isaacs of the Classics Department, Hathaway was discovering, was a thoroughly nasty piece of business. They'd been interviewing him about the suspicious death of one of his students, and the entire time he'd shown no empathy or concern for the boy or his family. Lewis was sitting next to Hathaway silently, but Hathaway could feel the agitation around his boss gathering like a storm cloud.

"You didn't notice he'd gone missing for nearly two weeks?" Hathaway asked in disbelief.

Professor Isaacs shrugged. "He had average intelligence at best. Entirely unremarkable. Rarely made a relevant contribution. Would you notice someone like that?"

At first, Hathaway wasn't sure what noise he was hearing, or even if it was a noise. Isaacs didn't seem to hear it. The sound was quiet, but...yes, there was definitely a strange, low-pitched noise coming from...

...from Lewis. Lewis was _growling._

For a moment, Hathaway sat there stupidly and blinked. What exactly was the protocol to follow when your boss growled at a witness? Hathaway cleared his throat loudly, and the sound seemed to draw Lewis's attention enough that he stopped growling and carried on as though nothing had happened.

Hathaway waited until they were back in their office to ask the obvious question. "What happened in there?"

Lewis grunted. "Worst sort of Oxford type. Got right up my nose."

"Yes, I assume that's why you growled at him."

Lewis stared at Hathaway. "I what?"

"Growled at him," Hathaway said. "I didn't imagine it, sir. Just before I cleared my throat, you growled at him. What were you thinking of?"

Lewis's eyes seemed to come unfocussed, and he stared absently at nothing. "How soft he was. Soft and weak and easy to catch."

Hathaway had to work hard to hide how genuinely shocked he was by that answer, and even then, a little shock slipped out. "I beg your pardon?"

Lewis blinked, seeming to realise exactly what he'd said, and it clearly shook him. "I...I don't..." He shook his head. "Dunno what I meant by that."

"Neither do I," Hathaway said warily. "Are you sure you're feeling all right?"

Lewis didn't seem to know, but both he and Hathaway were aware that there was only one answer he'd ever give to that question. "I'm fine. Why don't you make yourself useful and think of other things we can ask him that might shed some light on this case?"

"I suppose I'd better, before you decide I'm weak and easy to catch," Hathaway said.

It must've been his imagination, but...he could've sworn that Lewis looked intrigued by the idea. And not in the sense of predator to prey, but as something deeper, more bestial, almost as if he...

 _Will you never stop daydreaming?_ he chided himself. _You better than anyone should know that just because you want something, that doesn't make it so._

Still, he felt as though Lewis's gaze followed him out the door and all the way out of sight.

***

Hathaway and Lewis had agreed to go down the pub to watch, as Lewis put it, "Newcastle trounce Liverpool." Hathaway knocked at Lewis's door, wondering if he was running late. Generally Lewis was waiting outside his flat already when Hathaway arrived.

"Go away!" Lewis shouted from inside.

Hathaway frowned. That wasn't like him at all. "Sir?"

"Go away, I said!"

This was ridiculous. Hathaway could be as contrary as anybody. "No."

"I mean it! I'm not letting you in."

"That's fine," Hathaway said, studying the paint on Lewis's front door. "I've brought a tent and can live quite comfortably on your front stoop until you have to buy foodstuffs."

"I'll have 'em delivered."

"You'll still have to open the door."

He heard a heavy sigh. "You're not leaving?"

"I'm not," Hathaway confirmed.

After a moment, the door swung open, Lewis hiding behind it. "Come in then."

Hathaway entered. "Is something the matter? I thought we were going to watch the match. We can still watch on telly if you're not feeling well." He peered round the door, which Lewis was still behind, not having closed it yet. "Why are you hiding behind the door?"

Lewis sighed. "It's embarrassing." He closed the door, mouth pressing into a miserable line as he faced Hathaway and...oh. Ah.

Hathaway cleared his throat, averting his eyes from Lewis's...pelvic region, whose...indisposition was clear even though Lewis was fully clothed. "It's nothing to be ashamed of, sir. I have the same...plumbing, and on occasion it even does that." He gestured vaguely toward Lewis's erection.

"Can't seem to get it sorted," Lewis mumbled, clearly and painfully embarrassed. 

Hathaway nodded. "I understand." Lewis probably didn't know that, if anything, Hathaway found Lewis's excitement...exciting. "Well, if you like, I can just go..."

Lewis wet his lips, tongue protruding ever so slightly from his mouth, seeming to concentrate. "But you...this doesn't bother you at all, does it? You're...interested."

Hathaway felt deeply nervous. Lewis couldn't have guessed, could he? He couldn't know. Of course he couldn't. "Erm, I..."

Lewis smiled, more sure of himself now. "You _are_ interested. Very."

"I, I never said," Hathaway stammered.

Lewis shook his head, moving closer to Hathaway with an easy grace. "You don't have to. I can smell it on you." He leaned in close to Hathaway, and Hathaway closed his eyes at the soft, erotic sound of Lewis's gentle inhalation. When Lewis spoke again, his voice had dropped nearly an octave. "Smells good."

The sound of Lewis's deepened voice went directly to Hathaway's groin, spreading the heat of arousal faster than Hathaway's thoughts could work.

"Oh," Hathaway said weakly, because honestly, he could think of nothing else to say.

Then Lewis leaned over and gave Hathaway's neck a sudden swipe of his tongue, and Hathaway had to clamp his lips together to stifle the moan that was embarrassingly close to making itself heard.

"I want my scent all over you," Lewis whispered, and Hathaway shuddered involuntarily at the very idea, a hot rush of lust coursing through him. Lewis's hands rested on his hips, drawing him closer, insistently, possessively. "You're mine now, lad."

Hathaway made a soft sound of arousal, and Lewis's breath quickened, his hands tightening on Hathaway's hips.

"Bed," Lewis growled. "Now."

Hathaway wasn't about to disagree.

***

Hathaway got up in the night, taking his clothes into the lavatory to hang up so they wouldn't wrinkle. He didn't want to make it any more obvious than he had to that he was wearing the same clothes two days running.

After he'd taken care of his clothes, he washed his face and brushed his teeth with one finger--not the most effective method of dental care, but it should be all right for one night. He looked at his reflection and allowed himself a giddy grin. That had happened, hadn't it? He was staying the night at Lewis's behest, and Lewis had been the one to want him. He still felt shivery at the thought of it. He'd never seen Lewis like that before...so heated, so intense, so...

...animalistic.

Hathaway's smile faded. This wasn't the first time Lewis had seemed that way, come to think of it. He'd growled at that witness...made that comment about hunting him. And somehow he'd been able to smell Hathaway's arousal...

Oh, no. It couldn't be that. It couldn't be! Surely lycanthropy had been eradicated from Britain by now, like rabies. Everyone was vaccinated for it as a child, and there hadn't been a case of infection for ages. Or...no reported cases of infection, but that wasn't exactly the same, was it? And for an illness as stigmatised as this, there would be some people who wouldn't want to report it, probably more than a few.

Maybe it was a temporary infection, Hathaway thought, a bit frantic for Lewis not to be affected. It was rare, but it did happen. Sometimes people were symptomatic for a few weeks and then they recovered. That could be what Lewis had.

Hathaway sighed. No sense telling Lewis about it until he was absolutely sure--and he'd have to observe Lewis more carefully to be sure, and to do more research about it as well. He'd better be quick about collecting evidence, though. Next Saturday was the full moon.

Hathaway stumbled back to bed in the dark, but once he reached the bedroom, he could feel that Lewis was awake. He slipped into bed quietly as he could. "Sorry. Didn't mean to wake you."

Lewis snuggled close to Hathaway, voice soft and sleepy. "You all right?"

"Mm. Hanging up my clothes," Hathaway said.

Lewis chuckled. "Never have seen you very rumpled." He ran a gentle hand through Hathaway's hair. "Other than in bed."

"I've been saving myself for you, sir," Hathaway said, trying to sound dry enough that Lewis wouldn't guess how true it was.

"I must've been half-blind," Lewis said, still stroking Hathaway's hair. "Not to notice."

Hathaway embraced Lewis, cuddling close. "But you did notice."

"Worked out well for both of us," Lewis said, the yawn audible in his voice as his hand stilled against Hathaway's head. "You're me pack now."

Hathaway tried not to let the worry he felt at Lewis's use of that word manifest in any tension in his body. It didn't matter what Lewis was or what he might've contracted. The truth was, it had never and would never make any difference to how Hathaway felt about him.

"Yes," Hathaway said, whispering so he wouldn't wake Lewis, who seemed to be dozing now. "Yes, I am."

***

At work that week, Lewis seemed to be in good spirits. However, the good spirits did not extend to Lewis's treatment of DI Peterson, who was being somewhat less than subtle about trying to procure Hathaway as his own sergeant now that his recent sergeant had been promoted. Hathaway had once provided the crucial information Peterson had needed to make an important arrest, and Peterson had never forgotten it.

Lewis sulked quietly at first, as Peterson praised Hathaway, but the praise became overexuberant so quickly that Hathaway (and Lewis, he was sure) knew there had to be an ulterior motive.

"Well," Peterson said with a 'just chums' grin, "you can be my bagman anytime."

Lewis stood in one fluid motion, and the moment in which he was stalking ominously toward Peterson was one of the scariest Hathaway had known, because Hathaway had no idea what Lewis was going to do.

What Lewis did do was get in Peterson's personal space--so far into Peterson's personal space that Peterson took a step back to get away from him. Lewis made eye contact with Peterson and refused to break it or look away, and when he spoke, his voice was in a dangerous-sounding lower register.

"You can't have him," Lewis said.

Hathaway found he was holding his breath. Generally speaking, Lewis was not the sort to assert his dominance in such an overt and aggressive way, and Hathaway wondered what "Action Man" would do.

Unbelievably, Peterson was first to look away, taking another step back. "Didn't mean to imply anything."

Lewis was still staring. "Yeah, well, you'd better not."

With a wary expression, Peterson got out of there quickly.

"Serves him right," Lewis grunted, slamming the office door shut. "Thinking he can nick you whenever he feels like it." One hand toyed with his belt buckle.

In a moment that would've been surreally comic if it hadn't been so horrifying, Hathaway realised that Lewis was going to mark his territory. He nearly catapulted himself from his seat. "Sir! Don't!"

The suddenness of the shout seemed to make Lewis aware of what he was doing, and he backed away from the doorway, nearly stumbling into his chair. His face was ashen.

"What's happening to me?" he whispered.

Hathaway swallowed. "I think I know."

Lewis turned to Hathaway, expression a mixture of curiosity and dread. "Well?"

"Sir, think about your symptoms," Hathaway said. "Increased sensitivity to odours. More instinctive behaviour. The need to protect and define your territory."

Hathaway could see the exact moment Lewis understood what he was saying.

"It can't be," Lewis said, looking horrified. "I...I've been vaccinated! We all were, as kids."

"There have been some recent studies," Hathaway said slowly, "suggesting that the vaccinations don't provide the lifelong protection they were assumed to."

"A lot of good that does me! The full moon's in three days!"

Hathaway nodded. "I know."

Lewis sighed, rubbing his eyes. "It would be a werewolf going through my bin bags."

The statement struck Hathaway as so ludicrous that he couldn't suppress a laugh.

"Well, I'm glad you think this is funny!"

"No, it's not. Of course it isn't," Hathaway said, composing himself. "It's just the way you said it."

Lewis nodded. "Okay. I'll give you that."

Hathaway looked at Lewis. "What will you do?"

Lewis sighed. "Suppose I'll have to turn myself in."

"No!"

Lewis looked startled by the vehemence of Hathaway's reply. "It's the only way to stop me hurting someone."

"But they'll test you, and if you're a carrier, they'll wait until you change and then you'll be...destroyed." It was an old, inhumane procedure that had become law during the lycanthropy epidemic of the early twentieth century, but Hathaway knew it had never been removed from the UK's body of laws...and the panic that would be felt if it were known that lycanthropy had been reintroduced to the UK might be enough to keep the procedure legal, despite the government's official position on capital punishment. 

Lewis nodded, expression dismal. "I know."

Hathaway shook his head. "No."

"Hathaway..."

"No! I won't let you do it. I'll put a leash and collar on you, or I'll lock you in my loo, or I'll buy you a crate and lock you there and drop raw meat in it all night, but I will _not_ lose you!"

There was a long silence before Lewis spoke again. "You would have to be sure I couldn't get out. That I couldn't hurt you. I won't do to you what the bastard did to me. And I won't hurt anyone. The moment I do, I'm turning myself in. Understand?"

Hathaway didn't like it, but he understood. "Yes."

"I'll be coming down with flu tomorrow. Won't be able to come in to work."

Hathaway nodded. "I have a few days' leave coming. Now would be the perfect time to take it."

"You're sure about this?"

Hathaway met Lewis's eyes and didn't look away. "Entirely."

Lewis nodded. "Right."

***

One thing Hathaway learned over the next few days was that the transformation process happened more slowly than the films he'd seen in biology class would have one believe. Thursday morning, when Lewis opened the door to his flat, he seemed to be covered in a fine layer of grey fur all over. As was typical of Lewis, he made a joke of it, saying, "No jokes about forgetting to shave. I've already thought of them all."

Friday was worse. Rather than answer the door, Lewis shouted, "You'll have to use your key," and when Hathaway let himself in, he found Lewis lying on his side on the floor.

"What happened? Are you all right?" Hathaway asked, kneeling beside him.

"Think things are moving around in there," Lewis said. "Can't seem to stand up properly. And I couldn't phone you, cos look." He held up one hand, and Hathaway could see that his fingers had fused together in the beginnings of a paw.

"Does it hurt?" Hathaway asked sympathetically.

"Being knocked on the head hurts worse."

Hathaway looked round the room, fixing his attention on something practical. "You won't have eaten then."

"I..." There was shame in Lewis's voice now. "I had a rummage through the rubbish. Only thing I could reach."

"That's not an unusual source of sustenance for a wolf," Hathaway said, trying to help.

Lewis smiled ruefully. "Been doing research, have you?"

"Of course."

Lewis made a sound of discomfort and tried to move into a less difficult position. Hathaway couldn't even begin to imagine what it felt like to have your body completely reshape itself from the inside.

"Christ, man," Lewis said with a sigh, "why would you ever sign up for this?" He gestured to himself with his...front paw. 

"I would've thought it was obvious by now, sir."

"Well, it's not. Not to me."

Hathaway stroked Lewis's hair gently back from his face. "Because I love you."

Lewis lifted his head so he could set it down on top of Hathaway's hand, nuzzling it with his cheek. "I love you too. And I'm sorry about all this."

Hathaway sat there, letting his hand stay where it was till his fingers started to fall asleep. Then he carefully extricated himself, getting to his feet. "I'm going to make breakfast. Fancy some eggs?"

"Yes, please," Lewis said, tongue nearly lolling out of his mouth at the thought.

***

Hathaway had stocked the refrigerator with meat of all sorts for Lewis's wolf self. In fact, he'd bought so much offal that the butcher had asked him knowingly if Hathaway was having a haunted house. Hathaway, never one to ignore an easy escape from an awkward conversation, had said yes.

Now he was hard at work putting together the sturdiest and largest pet crate he'd been able to find. When it was finished, he checked and double-checked it to make sure it would hold, then sighed. "I hate the idea of putting you in here. Are you sure you don't..."

"We can't risk it," Lewis said. His breathing was laboured now, and there were more obvious signs of the wolf he would become about him. It was also clear that the level of pain he was feeling had increased substantially. "And if for some reason it breaks..."

"Are you questioning my craftsmanship?" Hathaway said mock-indignantly.

"Just listen," Lewis said. He shuddered as a spasm wracked his body, and Hathaway bit his lip hard to keep his own upset from showing. "If it breaks, don't wait and don't worry about me. You run away fast as you can."

Hathaway frowned at him. "And what, just leave you to..."

"You _run_ , James," Lewis said, iron in his voice.

Hathaway nodded reluctantly. "All right."

Lewis shifted, moving onto his...what? Four legs? Hands and knees? The limbs were in an excruciating-looking in-between stage that made every movement seem to be an agony. "I'd best go in."

Hathaway felt slightly sick. "Sir..."

"If we wait until I'm not me, it'll be too late," Lewis said. "I just have one thing I want to ask you."

"Anything."

"Once you've locked me in, go to the other room. I'm no prize to look at now, but it's only going to get worse and...I don't want you seeing that."

"But if you need something." Hathaway hated the idea of deserting Lewis during the most difficult part of his transformation.

"I'll manage," Lewis said.

Hathaway didn't like it, but he nodded. "All right."

Slowly, painfully, Lewis dragged himself into the crate, and Hathaway locked the door behind him.

"I've left you some food," Hathaway said anxiously, "and the water bottle's hung just there, so if you're thirsty..."

"James." Lewis's voice was very gentle.

Hathaway let out a shaky breath. "All right. I'll be back before you know it."

Lewis nodded. "I'll be right here."

Somehow, Hathaway forced himself to go into the other room, and to stay there.

When the sounds of human pain turned into the sounds of an animal's whimpers, Hathaway knew his Lewis was gone.

***

Eventually, in the small hours of the morning, the sounds stopped altogether. Hathaway peered into the living room to see what had happened.

Somehow, even with all the evidence before them, Hathaway hadn't truly believed that Lewis could turn into a wolf. But there in the crate was a sleeping grey wolf, and Hathaway could see no remaining signs of Lewis in it at all.

Hathaway must've stumbled over something or made a noise of some kind, because the wolf was on its feet in an instant, body in a taut, aggressive position. After a moment, though, the tension faded from its body, and it stood calmly, apparently unperturbed by Hathaway.

"Now why should that be?" Hathaway murmured, approaching the crate. "Wolves are generally frightened of humans. Not that I'm complaining, mind you. I just don't quite understand why you're so comfortable with..." He trailed off. He was close to the crate now, and with every step he took, the wolf's tail wagged more frantically.

"I'm not imagining this," Hathaway said. "You do like me." He knelt by the crate, waiting to see what the wolf would do, and without hesitation, the wolf approached the side of the crate and stuck its nose through, straining to touch Hathaway's nose with its own. There they sat for one electric moment, nose to nose, the human and the wolf. Then the wolf pulled back, though his tail was still wagging.

"Touching noses," Hathaway murmured. "That's something I've read about, but what did it mean?" He paused, thinking...and then there it was. "Courtship. It's a courtship action." Hathaway looked at the wolf, delighted. "That's why I don't frighten you. That's why you're courting me. Even in there, even all the way in there, you recognise me as your mate!"

The wolf lay back down, and Hathaway stifled a yawn. Today had been exhausting for them both, and Hathaway was sure they could do with some rest.

"I can't let you out to sleep at the foot of the bed," Hathaway told the wolf, "because I'm sure you're not domesticated, and if you gave me a playful bite, I think you'd shout at me a great deal when you were Lewis again." He removed the sofa cushions and spread them on the floor a safe distance from the wolf's crate. Then he lay down. The wolf shifted to the part of the crate that was closest to Hathaway, and Hathaway smiled at the sight. Maybe Lewis was in there somewhere after all.

"I'll be right here," he said softly.

It didn't take either of them long to fall asleep.

***

Hathaway was awakened by the sounds of scratching on plastic, and when he looked at the crate, he saw the wolf trying to dig through the floor.

"I don't think that will work," Hathaway murmured to the wolf, noticing that the food he'd put in the crate yesterday was gone. He got up stretching as he ambled to the fridge. "What would you like for breakfast? Liver?" He unwrapped the raw meat, carrying it to the crate. He'd only got it halfway through the bars on top when the wolf lunged at it and tore it from his hand, shaking it from side to side to make sure it was dead before beginning to eat it.

"I wonder if I should be recording this for posterity," Hathaway joked. There was no reason for him to be talking as much as he was, but if Lewis remembered anything of his time as a wolf, perhaps he'd appreciate the conversation.

The wolf finished devouring the liver and looked at Hathaway expectantly. Hathaway brought the wolf another large piece of meat to eat, and that seemed to satisfy him. The wolf seemed a bit restless in the cage, prowling back and forth, but it wasn't as though Hathaway was going to play Barbara Woodhouse with him, especially when he'd just seen him eat.

"I'm sorry," he said sympathetically, "but you'll just have to stay in there. If you don't like it, find a new carer. Which of course you can't, because you're locked in a crate."

Nighttime was the worst. The wolf became agitated, throwing himself repeatedly against the walls of the crate and trying to dig through the floor to get out. None of the attempts worked, but there were some dodgy moments, and at one point, the wolf threw back his head and howled in what sounded like frustration.

Hathaway had already come up with an excuse for this if any neighbours complained--sorry, family tradition, we like to watch werewolf movies on full moon nights, must've had it on too loud, sorry about that. But no one complained.

After a run of howling and attempts at escape, the wolf finally tired, and went to sleep in a grumpy pile of fur on the crate floor. Once Hathaway was quite sure the wolf was asleep, he slept too.

***

"James."

Hathaway was awake in an instant. "Sir?"

It was still dark out, but there was enough light to see that Lewis had begun his transformation back. His tail was nearly gone, and his limbs were slowly starting to take more human shape. He spoke with difficulty because his muzzle hadn't entirely gone yet.

"Faster this time," Lewis panted, closing his eyes in pain. "Hurts."

Hathaway was already fumbling with the lock on the crate door. "I'm going to let you out of there."

"Don't move me. It's bad enough this way," Lewis whispered. He yelped softly at a sudden hurt, then looked apologetic. "Sorry..."

Hathaway opened the crate door, but instead of helping Lewis out, he crawled inside.

"What are you doing?" Lewis asked.

"Staying with you until this is over," Hathaway said firmly. There was no danger in this direction of the change, and he wouldn't be disposed of in the other room this time.

Lewis opened his mouth to protest, but his fur was in the process of pushing itself back into his skin, so what came out was a whine of pain.

Hathaway lay down on his side (to the extent that he could manage it) and began to stroke Lewis's hair. "You'll be all right," he whispered. "The worst is over. We know what to do about the wolf now, and the rest of the time you'll be yourself."

"I knew you," Lewis whispered. "Even as a wolf."

"I could tell," Hathaway said. "It helped, knowing that." He paused. "How much do you remember?"

"Flashes. Not neat and tidy like human memory, but enough." Lewis groaned as his claws retracted painfully into his hands and his fingers split apart. "I can't..."

"I know it hurts," Hathaway murmured softly. "I know. I wish it didn't."

As Lewis's face began to reshape itself into human form, the pain got so bad that Lewis lost consciousness, and his limbs twitched like a dreaming dog's.

Hathaway kept vigil.

***

When Lewis rolled over to face him, Hathaway felt a burst of relief so strong at seeing Lewis the way he should be that he caught Lewis in a tight hug.

Lewis extricated himself. "Can this wait till we're out of this bloody crate?"

"Of course," Hathaway said. He let Lewis go first, and then crawled after him.

"Sorry, but it's been ages," Lewis said, hurrying with great urgency to the loo.

While he was in there, Hathaway busied himself with making breakfast--porridge this time, as he suspected Lewis had eaten enough meat to last a while.

"Mm, smells good," Lewis said as he emerged. "Whatever you fed me yesterday, that was good too."

"I'm glad," Hathaway said. "It was, of course, my first time feeding a wolf, so I suppose I was lucky."

"I want to thank you," Lewis said hesitantly. "For being here."

Hathaway shrugged, focussing on stirring the porridge. "Anyone would've."

"No," Lewis said. "No, anyone wouldn't."

Hathaway looked up, smiling slightly. "Well. I've been thinking about what we could do next time." His tone turned businesslike as he turned back to the porridge. "To let you get a bit of exercise. If we went to the countryside, perhaps I could put you on some sort of lead that would let you run without leaving you entirely to your own devices. You didn't seem like a very aggressive wolf, not with me, so..."

Lewis closed the gap between them, taking Hathaway into his arms and snogging the breath out of him. Hathaway remembered enough to put down the porridge spoon before wrapping his arms around Lewis in turn.

Lewis's kisses, while fervent, weren't animalistic at all. They were full of relief and gratitude, and a very tender love. When they pulled apart, Hathaway rested his forehead against Lewis's.

"Don't ever go?" Lewis asked, voice wavering slightly.

Hathaway shook his head. "Never." And he leaned in for another kiss.

***

Hathaway spent a great deal of his time planning for the next month's change. He bought a collar and lead for the wolf so he'd be able to take him outside to roam; Hathaway's official line, for anyone who asked or seemed suspicious, was, "He's a husky, and they look like wolves sometimes."

When Lewis brought home a muzzle one day, however, Hathaway was surprised.

"I hope that's not for me," Hathaway said, trying to make light of what would probably become an uncomfortable conversation.

"No, me," Lewis said.

Hathaway couldn't keep from wincing. "You want me to muzzle you?"

"How d'you know it's not one of me kinks?" Lewis asked.

Hathaway blinked. "...is it?"

"No," Lewis admitted. "But I've been thinking how I can avoid biting anyone. Including you."

"Oh, if you did bite me, we could chuck it all and move to the Orkneys, going full wolf once a month and feeding on the local waterfowl."

"And being shot by the neighbours when we wander onto their land because we don't recognise property boundaries because we're wolves," Lewis said.

Hathaway shrugged. "Spoilsport."

"I need you to be human when I'm not, to keep us both safe," Lewis said.

Hathaway nodded, feeling a bit sheepish for having joked about something so important to Lewis. "Right."

"So sometime before I lose the ability to talk, you muzzle me. No wisecracks, please," Lewis added wryly.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Hathaway said. "You're sure about this?"

Lewis nodded.

"I'll put it in the boot with the crate then."

Lewis hesitated. "Will it be all right, you driving with me back there and all?"

"I'll have a blanket over the crate," Hathaway said. "If you're still changing, it won't matter, because no one will be able to see you."

Lewis smiled. "Thought of everything, haven't you?"

"Tried to," Hathaway said. "We'll see."

Lewis sighed a little, forcing his shoulders to relax and lower from their hunched-up, tense position. Talking about his transformation (Hathaway had almost stopped thinking of it as an illness, although he knew Lewis hadn't) always made him tense.

Hathaway stood, crossing to Lewis and resting his hands on Lewis's shoulders. "Looks like you could use a shoulder rub." He started to work Lewis's shoulders gently with his thumbs.

Lewis sighed, relaxing and leaning into the touch a bit. "You spoil me."

"Not nearly enough," Hathaway retorted, digging his fingers carefully into Lewis's tense muscles.

Lewis made a sound deep in the back of his throat, like a purr. Then he tensed. "Sorry."

"Don't apologise," Hathaway said, continuing his backrub. "I love your little noises."

Lewis snorted in disbelief.

"May I remind you, you were very wolfy the first time we made love, and I had no objections," Hathaway said.

Lewis nodded. "You've been very good about it."

Hathaway knew it would be wasted breath to try to convince Lewis that he found Lewis's wolf traits exciting. Instead, he said, "I don't know if you're aware of this, but I rather like you."

That made Lewis smile. "I like you too." He kissed Hathaway. "Do we have to have dinner?"

"You're a growing boy," Hathaway said.

"Yeah, growing side to side," Lewis said.

That was ridiculous. Hathaway loved Lewis's body. He ran a hand down Lewis's side and was rewarded with a shiver.

"I need you to take charge tonight," Lewis said, and Hathaway could hear what Lewis wasn't saying. Lewis was struggling to seem like exactly the same man he'd always been, when he wasn't the same man he'd always been. He hadn't growled at any witnesses since that first time, but there was a danger about him now when he felt he was being toyed with, and Hathaway had noticed that certain witnesses were made much more nervous by him than they would have been before.

Lewis was afraid of his own temper too, in a way he hadn't been. He was less openly grumpy at work because being grumpy could turn to anger, and Hathaway knew Lewis was afraid that loss of control in that anger would let the wolf out, leading to something terrible he couldn't take back. Lewis didn't just have to take charge of his work; he had to take charge of himself in a way he never had done. Hathaway sometimes wondered if it wouldn't have been easier if he'd been the one who'd been bitten, because he already kept himself under fairly high levels of control most of the time. Being a werewolf would've been one more thing not to show anyone.

"It's all right, Robbie," Hathaway said, using his name on purpose so that he wouldn't feel like he had to be 'sir'. "I'll take charge."

"Thanks," Lewis said with a nod.

"And my first act of taking charge," Hathaway said, "is to insist that you eat dinner."

Lewis groaned. "Should've seen that coming."

"You really should've," Hathaway agreed, taking his hand. "Come on. Dinner first, dessert after."

"And by dessert you mean..." Lewis said hopefully.

"Chocolate mousse." Hathaway paused. "And shagging."

***

Lewis couldn't exactly keep his wolf traits out of the bedroom, and Hathaway was perfectly fine with that. Tonight, in fact, was turning out to be particularly good. Hathaway closed his eyes, nearly humming with arousal as Lewis leaned in, mouth hot against Hathaway's shoulder...

...and then Lewis was not in the mood at all, pulling back, his eyes horrified as he searched Hathaway's shoulder with his gaze and his fingers. "Did I break the skin?"

Hathaway was too lust-dazed to know what Lewis was talking about. "What?"

"I bit you," Lewis said. He didn't find anything, and he let out a sigh of relief, rubbing a hand over his face. His hands were shaking, and he moved to the edge of the bed, sitting with his back to Hathaway.

Hathaway took a few deep breaths, waiting for his arousal to subside. Then he moved to sit behind Lewis. "It's all right. You haven't hurt me."

"No, but I almost..." Lewis shook his head, pressing his hands against the bed to stop them shaking.

"You can't infect someone unless you're in wolf form," Hathaway said. "You know that."

"I don't know that!" Lewis snapped. "The science is all so bloody old. They said the transition would be quick and it wasn't. What if infection happens no matter what shape you're in?"

"I'm not afraid of you infecting me."

"You should be."

"Why?"

Lewis's shoulders slumped. "Because if I infected someone...especially you...I would be the monster everyone says werewolves are."

Hathaway rested his head on Lewis's shoulder. "You're not a monster."

"Sometimes I'm not sure of that," Lewis whispered.

Hathaway wrapped his arms round Lewis's middle. "I'm not afraid of you."

Lewis's voice was barely audible. "I am."

Hathaway turned his head, dropping a kiss on Lewis's shoulder. "Come back to bed. We don't have to do anything. We can just cuddle."

Lewis nodded, looking defeated. "Yeah."

As they crawled back beneath the covers, Hathaway wished there were something he could do to help Lewis through this. What he'd said was true; he wasn't afraid of Lewis and he didn't fear Lewis hurting him.

But none of that mattered if Lewis did.

***

The next morning, Hathaway was working on his laptop in the living room by the time Lewis got up.

"Missed you this morning," Lewis said with a yawn. "What's that?"

Hathaway gestured Lewis over. "Have a look."

Lewis leaned in over Hathaway's shoulder, peering at the screen. "What am I looking at?"

"Ten scientific studies from within the last fifteen years showing that the pathogen that's active in wolf form saliva becomes dormant when the werewolf is in human form," Hathaway said. "It's been shown that human saliva isn't capable of infecting others with lycanthropy, even in infected people."

Lewis stared at the screen. "You found all this?"

"I was hoping I could find scientific evidence," Hathaway said.

Lewis looked at Hathaway. "Of?"

"You not needing to worry about being with me."

Lewis leaned in and kissed Hathaway's cheek in thanks, his stubble comfortingly scratchy.

Hathaway put on his best posh voice. "I'm going to expect quite a bit more biting from you in future."

Lewis chuckled, a warm, rumbly sound. "I'll try not to disappoint." He paused. "I'm going to make you pancakes."

"I'll do research every morning if it gets me pancakes."

Lewis snorted. "Smartarse."

***

"Your change is different this time, isn't it?" Hathaway asked. It was two days before the full moon, and unlike last time, Lewis showed no signs of transformation yet.

"I think so," Lewis said. "Haven't felt it yet. Maybe the first time is your body figuring out the change, and each time gets easier?"

"That would be nice," Hathaway said.

Lewis gave Hathaway a 'you've no idea' look.

***

The change didn't begin this time until the evening before the full moon, well on the way to the wooded place Hathaway had chosen to take Lewis. Hathaway pulled over and helped Lewis into the crate before the change got too far, and drove the rest of the way with Lewis in the back. The same silence came after the change, and Hathaway took a more labyrinthine route than was strictly necessary, to give Lewis time to sleep. He could only imagine how exhausting the process must be.

When Hathaway opened the boot of his car, the wolf was standing quietly, calmly, muzzle and lead on, waiting for Hathaway. Hathaway took the lead in hand before unlocking the crate door in case the wolf decided to run, but the wolf was perfectly orderly and leapt neatly down from the car, turning and...waiting for Hathaway to close the boot?

It couldn't be. Could it? What if it was? Hathaway kept his voice very, very quiet and asked, "Sir?"

The wolf's head moved forward, then back, in a decidedly ungainly way. He was nodding.

Hathaway drew in a shocked breath. "You can understand me."

The wolf nodded again.

Hathaway closed the boot of his car and crouched down to be closer to the wolf...to Lewis. "It's you this time. Isn't it?" Another nod. Hathaway sighed. "I wish you could talk and tell me how you did it."

Lewis, in lieu of answering, butted his head against Hathaway's hand and then sat, as though he were a dog.

Hathaway snorted with laughter. "Later then." This wasn't like the first time, where he hadn't seen anything of Lewis in the wolf he had become. He could see bits of Lewis in the wolf's eyes, in the way he moved, even in the way he seemed to be enjoying confounding Hathaway.

Hathaway stood. "All right. Walkies?"

Lewis bowed his front half low, rear high in the air, tail wagging, and Hathaway couldn't help chuckling at the sight. Lewis wanted to play.

"Right," Hathaway said. "I'm sure I can't run as quickly as you, but if you're game..." He shrugged.

That was all the encouragement Lewis needed. He raced into the woods, Hathaway in tow.

***

It was much less enervating caring for Lewis as a wolf when it was so clearly Lewis as a wolf. Hathaway took the muzzle off because Lewis obviously wouldn't need it.

Hathaway had booked an evening at a bed and breakfast near the wooded area so Lewis could have the run of the place the next day as well. Lewis, amusingly, refused to sleep on the floor, so Hathaway patted the empty side of the bed beside him, and Lewis clambered up, walking in a circle a few times before settling comfortably onto the bed.

"Will you find it speciesist if I pet you?" Hathaway asked.

Lewis leaned over and gave Hathaway's hand an encouraging lick, which made Hathaway smile. They were quiet for a while, lying there in the dark, Hathaway skimming his hand back and forth over Lewis's fur.

"In some strange way, I almost envy you," Hathaway said quietly.

Lewis made an inquisitive noise.

"You've experienced what it's like to live entirely without inhibitions," Hathaway said. "I know that's not necessarily a good thing, and clearly you'd rather have gone on as you were. But even this time, you've had your own mind, but you've still seemed to...find a way to live in the moment." He exhaled a humourless laugh. "I need a thirty-point plan to go to Tesco."

Lewis was quiet, and Hathaway had no idea what he was thinking. He probably should've waited to have this conversation until Lewis was back to his usual self...but sometimes it was easier to talk to animals than people. Animals loved you anyway. People didn't always.

"I know it's a silly thing to think," he said. "I've seen the transition and how much pain you go through. I don't want that for you or me. But it seems to me it must be...freeing somehow, to be someone else for a while."

Lewis seemed to consider that for a moment. Then he sneezed.

Hathaway snorted a laugh. "Thank you for taking my intellectual cul-de-sacs so seriously." He toyed with Lewis's fur a bit, combing it through with his fingers. "I know what you'd say if you could talk, anyway. You'd say, 'Hathaway, man, you think too much.'"

Lewis gave a soft 'woof' of agreement.

Hathaway nodded. "I know I do. But it's like everything else. Just because you know you have a flaw doesn't mean you can change it."

Lewis squirmed closer to Hathaway, giving comfort the only way he could right now--through touch. Hathaway gently gathered Lewis into his arms; he hadn't had a canine companion in ages. It was nice.

"Sleep'll stop me thinking," Hathaway murmured, his cheek against Lewis's fur.

And he was right. It did.

***

The next day, when they went through the woods together, they were surprised by another walker on the path. The man was thin and hollow-eyed, with a jumpiness that Hathaway characterised as that of an addict. Hathaway pulled Lewis close to him in warning, but Lewis placed himself bodily between Hathaway and the stranger. He could probably smell that something was wrong.

"Got a light, mister?" the man asked, one hand tapping almost uncontrollably against his thigh.

"Sorry, I don't smoke," Hathaway said, and as tense as the situation was, he heard Lewis make a sound suspiciously like laughter.

The man's hand hovered near his pocket, and Hathaway silently cursed his misfortune. The man had a knife.

Lewis wasn't waiting. His muzzle was contorted in a snarl, impressive teeth fully bared. And he growled, loud and harsh, at the intruder.

The man eyed Lewis warily.

"Sorry, he doesn't like people," Hathaway said. "You should see what he did to the paper boy."

Lewis snapped at the man, whose hand was no longer near his pocket as he decided whether his plan or his life was more important. Suddenly, Lewis lunged forward so quickly that the lead slipped from Hathaway's hand.

The man shouted in panic and ran off into the woods. Lewis gave chase long enough to ensure the man wouldn't return, snarling and barking all the way along. Then he dropped the aggressive facade and trotted calmly back to Hathaway, sitting by his feet.

"Thanks," Hathaway said. "Or should I say good dog?"

Lewis gave him such a long-suffering look that Hathaway laughed aloud.

"Come on," he said. "Let's go home."

***

The change happened so quietly late that night that Hathaway didn't hear anything until Lewis got up to use the loo.

"Go back to sleep," Lewis said, waving at Hathaway not to sit up. "I'm fine."

"Are you?"

"Might be a bit sore tomorrow from chasing Smiley the addict out there, but otherwise, yeah."

Hathaway fought back a grin. "Smiley?"

"Didn't catch his name. He was too busy running." Lewis sounded undeniably proud of himself.

"My hero," Hathaway murmured, embracing Lewis.

"We'll see what happens next month," Lewis said.

"How do you mean?"

"Well, we'll find out if I change into a proper wolf or if I stay me again. If I'm still me, we won't have to take as many precautions in future."

"I'm sure you're glad of that."

"I am. Only..."

Hathaway waited for the rest. When it didn't come, he prompted, "Only?"

"If that's all it takes. If it just takes time for a werewolf to have control when he's a wolf. I keep thinking, if they'd known at the time..." Lewis paused, then said, "They murdered so many of us."

Hathaway understood. During the epidemic, if they'd waited to see if the infected had reached some sort of mental equilibrium, how many lives would've been saved?

"I can't get it out of me head," Lewis said. "What if some of them were human the second time? What if they tried to warn someone, to let them know they weren't..." Lewis's voice wavered, but when he spoke again, he was angry. "And they still call us monsters. You can't even say you're going to have a sympathetic werewolf character on telly without a flood of letters about endangering the public health."

"You've thought a lot about this."

"Kept me occupied during the change," Lewis said. He sighed. "I'm not blaming you. I know you don't have the answers."

"Wish I did," Hathaway said.

"There's got to be one though. An answer. Hasn't there?"

Hathaway nodded. "I'd like to think so."

"It's too late to talk about this."

"No, I...I'm glad you did."

Lewis pressed a gentle kiss to Hathaway's lips. "Hard to keep things from a bloke who's seen you naked."

"It won't be once I confess my deep, dark secret," Hathaway said. "I'm an ABBA enthusiast."

Lewis chuckled. "Seen _Mamma Mia_ , have you?"

"Rank heresy, sir. Those songs should only be sung by the original band members."

"Naturally you don't sing along then."

"Ah. I'm afraid that would be part the second of my deep dark secret."

"Are you never without words?"

"Trained myself not to be. Whether they're the right words or not I leave to the judgment of the people who interact with me."

Lewis touched Hathaway's arm hesitantly. "You would tell me if there were something on your mind, yeah?"

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know. Anything." Lewis paused. "I don't want this only to be one way, with you taking care of me. If I wanted that, I could go live in a home."

"A home for retired werewolves?" Hathaway asked.

Lewis chuckled. "Actually, that sounds lovely, but don't change the subject."

Hathaway patted Lewis's back. "Thank you, but I'm fine."

"You'd say if you weren't?"

Hathaway kept his voice calm. "I've given up confession, sir. Even to you."

"Because I don't listen."

Hathaway frowned. "What? No."

"But I don't. The one time, James, the one time you tried to tell me anything that meant anything to you, I turned you away. You'd been given a death sentence, you were begging me for help, and I just left you there. What sort of man does that?"

"A man who's been lied to since the case began. I don't blame you."

"I blame me," Lewis said. "I made it clear to you I wasn't safe to talk to, and there isn't one day I haven't regretted it."

Hathaway felt...he didn't know what he felt. Surprised. Astonished, really. He'd no idea Lewis had felt this way. And for the first time in a long time, Hathaway wanted to take a chance emotionally.

"You are safe," Hathaway said softly. "You're the safest person there is."

He heard Lewis's soft, shocked indrawn breath, and then Lewis's arms were around him, warm and strong. Hathaway wasn't the sort of man to ask for physical contact, but he found it very welcome whenever it was offered. He snuggled into Lewis's embrace, body instinctively relaxing. "Anyway, I'm glad you're back."

"Me too," Lewis said. "Though we'll have to find some way to manage work. Innocent won't like it if we scarper off together once a month."

"No," Hathaway said reluctantly.

"If I'm going to be me, I can amuse myself. I won't need a minder."

"And it won't seem suspicious if you're ill once a month exactly?" Hathaway said.

Lewis sighed. "I suppose I should be thinking about taking early retirement."

"Do you want to?"

"No, but what choice do I have? I can't work as a wolf, I can't be absent every full moon without someone noticing, and this is the only job I've ever wanted."

Hathaway considered the problem. "What if you sign up for a course?"

"One that conveniently meets once a month?"

"Mm, I see your point." Hathaway thought a moment more. "Volunteering. Once a week, or once every other week, we'll ask for permission to do volunteer work."

"I still couldn't go the day of."

"But I could. I'd go, make a showing. I'm always there with you; who would remember I hadn't been that day?"

Lewis whistled, impressed. "It's a good job you never turned to crime."

"There's time yet," Hathaway said lightly, and was rewarded with a laugh from Lewis.

"I'd have to bring you in," Lewis said.

"Oh, yes, Mr Policeman. Please lock me up. I've been terribly naughty," Hathaway said suggestively.

When Lewis spoke again, his voice was in that lowered register that meant there was a bit of wolf to him. "Don't suppose you want to sleep?"

"Don't suppose you want me to," Hathaway said, tone cheeky.

Lewis pounced so quickly that Hathaway nearly laughed with the delight of it.

***

After a particularly arduous day at work, Lewis proposed a visit to the cinema. "I've got to think about something else."

Hathaway agreed. "There's a Fellini film festival this week. _La Strada_ 's on tonight."

Lewis snorted. "Having trouble sleeping?"

"I'll win you over someday."

"The new Bond film's on too," Lewis said. "What d'you reckon?"

Hathaway found James Bond films predictable and morally problematic. "Sounds perfect."

Lewis was in such a good mood to be out and about that he bought sweets for them both. During the car chases and assorted forms of mayhem that took place in the first half hour, Hathaway found it more entertaining to watch Lewis than the film, because he was so clearly enjoying himself.

When the villain's scarred henchman appeared, however, Hathaway caught his breath, because he could see where this was going, and it wasn't good.

"Sir," Hathaway whispered urgently, "I think we should go."

"Leave off, man. I'm enjoying this," Lewis whispered back.

Hathaway sank back in his seat with a feeling of foreboding that only intensified as the film progressed. The henchman was hardly better than a feral animal, attacking without the slightest provocation. Finally, the villain revealed that the henchman was a werewolf, "one I keep on a tight leash when he's not doing his best work for me." Hathaway felt Lewis tense beside him, and knew that Lewis now had some idea what was going to happen.

When Bond killed the henchman in a scene designed to make the audience cheer, Lewis pushed himself from his seat and hurried from the cinema. Hathaway was close behind.

Outside, Lewis increased his pace so greatly that even Hathaway, with his longer legs, couldn't keep up. "Sir."

"I want to go home," Lewis said.

"It's early yet. We can see something else," Hathaway said, trying to be encouraging. "Maybe the-"

Lewis stopped, turning to face Hathaway, and the look in Lewis's eyes knocked any words Hathaway had been about to say far away from him. Lewis looked anguished, devastated, with the realisation clear to read in his eyes and face and body that those people in the cinema, all of them strangers to Lewis, wanted him dead.

Hathaway nodded. "All right. Let's go home."

Lewis nodded and didn't say another word.

***

When they arrived home, Hathaway asked, "Do you want something to eat?"

Lewis shook his head, plopping onto the couch. His feelings had been tucked away so far inside him now that his entire face was blank and unreadable. Hathaway didn't like it, but he didn't know how to change it.

"A drink then," Hathaway said.

"Not thirsty." Lewis's voice was devoid of feeling too, a lifeless sound.

Hathaway crossed to Lewis and sat close beside him, nudging Lewis's knee with his. Lewis didn't smile, didn't respond, didn't even seem to notice. After a moment, Hathaway spoke.

" 'The laws of God, the laws of man,  
He may keep that will and can,  
Now I: let God and man decree  
Laws for themselves and not for me;  
And if my ways are not as theirs  
Let them mind their own affairs.  
Their deeds I judge and much condemn,  
Yet when did I make laws for them?  
Please yourselves, say I, and they  
Need only look the other way.  
But no, they will not, they must still  
Wrest their neighbors to their will,  
And make me dance as they desire  
With jail and gallows and hell-fire.  
And how am I to face the odds  
Of man's bedevilment and God's?  
I, a stranger and afraid  
In a world I never made.  
They will be master, right or wrong;  
Though both are foolish, both are strong,  
And since, my soul, we cannot fly  
To Saturn nor to Mercury,  
Keep we must, if keep we can,  
These foreign laws of God and man.' "

Lewis was quiet a while. "Shakespeare?"

"Housman."

Lewis nodded. "Not bad."

"I'll tell him you said so," Hathaway said.

Lewis glanced at him. "He's dead, isn't he?"

"Yeah."

"I just couldn't stay there another minute."

Hathaway nodded. "I understand."

"You tried to warn me," Lewis said. "How did you know?"

Hathaway gestured to his face. "The scars. They were claw marks."

Lewis winced and nodded. Hathaway could see that Lewis was full of thoughts and questions, all swirling round in his mind, but none of them were answerable, and none of them helped. Then Lewis's shoulders slumped, he lowered his head, and he whimpered very, very softly.

It was both Lewis and the wolf submitting, and it was awful. Hathaway reached out and gathered Lewis into his arms, holding on as tightly as he could.

"Listen to me," Hathaway said. "They don't know you. I do. And I love you. This entire situation has been impossible for you from the beginning, and you've handled it with nothing but grace and poise and bravery. You're..." Hathaway meant to catch his breath a moment, but the words kept pouring out of him, uncontrollable and unstoppable. "You're _precious_ to me and when I see how terrible that film and those people made you feel it makes me irrationally angry because how dare they, you are _mine_ , you are _my love_ , and I'll burn their bloody houses to the ground, all of them, before I'll let them lay one fucking finger on you." He was breathing hard, and probably red in the face. That had turned into a bit more of a rant than he'd expected.

Lewis was staring at him in astonishment. "You sure you haven't got any wolf in you?"

"Not at the moment," Hathaway said. "Ask me again when we're in bed."

That provoked a spluttered laugh from Lewis, and Lewis shook his head. "Walked into that one, didn't I?"

Hathaway nodded.

Lewis rested his head on Hathaway's shoulder. "Are you sorry?"

"No," Hathaway said firmly. "Are you?"

"I'm sorry I was stupid enough to be bitten. I'm not sorry for anything that came after."

Hathaway nodded. "Good."

Lewis nuzzled Hathaway's shoulder. "I couldn't do this without you, you know."

"You won't have to," Hathaway said.

Lewis sighed, nearly melting into Hathaway's arms, allowing himself to ask silently for the comfort he wanted. Hathaway held Lewis close, rocking him gently back and forth. Lewis made his wolf purring sound almost inaudibly, but unlike previous times, he didn't seem embarrassed or self-conscious about it. Hathaway was glad of that.

"Love you," Lewis whispered.

Hathaway wondered if Lewis knew this was the first time he'd said it first. "I love you too."

The next full moon would come, Hathaway thought, and the next, and the next. But the two of them wouldn't change. They would still be together, facing the world, protecting each other.

They were each other's pack now.


End file.
